


Air Thrust One

by reyiosa



Category: Star Wars Legends: Republic (Comics), Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: All sex happens off-screen or is implied, Brief moment of sad, Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Commando Cody references, Crack, Double Entendre, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Jetpack Sex, M/M, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Threats of Violence, clone cadets are the definition of pure 'boys being boys', handjobs, injury mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reyiosa/pseuds/reyiosa
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that every young adult in possession of a jetpack must be in want of some common sense. This was why their trainers got the sex talk out of the way as soon as possible.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, implied Echo/Fives, implied Kix/Jesse
Comments: 34
Kudos: 303





	Air Thrust One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FunnyPoeple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunnyPoeple/gifts).



> This got well away from me, but I'm not sorry.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that every young adult in possession of a jetpack must be in want of some common sense. This was why their trainers got the sex talk out of the way as soon as possible.

“Do not attempt to have sexual congress while using your jetpacks,” said Alpha-26, his heavy glare stifling back any giggles that might have risen in the cadets’ throats. “Do not attempt it on the ground. Do not attempt it in mid-flight. You’re carrying twenty pounds of fuel that is actively shooting flames three inches from your plastoid-covered ass and moving you in any direction at at least ten meters per second.”

Every Alpha recited the speech during training, but each had their own variation on the consequences of disobeying. 

Some threatened to share exactly how the offending cadet died at their remembrances and to every squad that came after them. Others were more practical and told the cadets that if they lived, they would let the medics laugh at them forever.

“If you try anything of the sort, I will come and rip your dick off myself before the jetpack burns it off for you,” was Alpha-26’s favorite.

Nevertheless, despite the gruesome warnings and obvious consequences, at least one cadet in every batch tried it. In most cases, they only tried solo maneuvers, managing to slip a hand behind their codplate mid-flight before moving far enough off course or smacking into a gym wall that they had to stop. Only in a few legendary cases had anyone tried a two-person congress. In one case, one of the participants set their legs on fire and crashed into the Kamino ocean. In another, a jerky motion stripped the skin from the cadet’s deece and landed him in medical for a week. 

For most cadets, these stories galled and horrified. For the more determined, it inspired them to try (and fail) in new and exciting ways when the time came for them to learn the jetpack. 

But legend had it, there was at least two troopers out there who successfully did the deed, bringing each other to pleasure mid-flight without injuring either themselves or the landscape.

“Banthashit,” said Fives immediately. “Absolute banthashit.”

Echo laughed. “Just because you didn’t do it—”

“No, I never did it because I’m not a complete shellhead,” retorted Fives. “But that story’s as fake as the captain’s blonde hair.”

“Oh, come on!” hollered Jesse, while the rest of their table snickered. “Okay, first, he dyes his eyebrows, I swear, I’ve seen him do it after the showers.”

“And here I thought you didn’t kiss and tell,” said Kix with an arched brow. Echo and Fives choked on their beers.

Jesse merely waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “Only with you, Kixy.”

“Gross.” Hardcase mimed gagging, but squawked when Tup punched him in the arm. It sent more giggles around the table.

“But seriously,” Fives spoke up once the group regained some level of domesticity. “How would anyone do it? The assplate’s barely enough protection to avoid getting your shebs cooked.”

“Oh ka’ra, you think vod’e are trying to  _ penetrate _ each other in the air.” Hardcase full-bodied cackled at that. “No, no, you do a double-handed deece cleaning.” He gestured exactly what he meant, as if the entire table didn’t get it at once.

“But that’s boring, it’s barely fucking!” protested Fives.

“Having your ass intact is not boring, you don’t want to know what it looks like when you don’t,” replied Kix. 

“And I don’t want to know what else you don’t consider  _ fucking _ , Fives,” said Echo with a meaningful look. Fives had the sense to blush.

“I’ve always wanted to try,” said Tup dreamily, ignoring the way Fives whipped his head towards him, but blushing at the way Hardcase did it faster. “It sounds fun, I don’t know. Never got comfortable enough with a jetpack to try it.”

Hardcase immediately locked eyes with Jesse. “Hey, Lieutenant—”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!”

“You’re not using up jetpack fuel for airborn sex, no matter what Tup says. And don’t give me those eyes, Tup.” Jesse jabbed a finger towards Tup, who was trying just that. “Kix owns my shebs far more than those tooka eyes ever will.”

“And I will not hesitate to tell the captain exactly what happened when you injure yourselves doing it.”

“If we get to practice, we won’t injure ourselves,” pointed out Hardcase sensibly, in his opinion. Tup nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Absolutely not.” Jesse punctuated that by finishing his beer and grabbing Hardcase’s out of his hands. As he squawked, Jesse continued. “I’m a certified idiot, Kix can testify to that, and I can tell you that jetpack-fucking is the worst possible idea you could have as a vod.”

“But you said someone did it,” said Echo, because the little shit loved causing chaos. 

“Yeah,” Jesse replied, his grin sharp, “and I know the next trooper to do it is not gonna be any of you.”

Jesse was right, but he made a tactical error if his goal was to let the idea die. The myth that someone successfully executed jetpack sex spread through the 501st and every battalion they came in contact with. Cody only asked about Rex once—silently with a single arched brow over one of their rare moments of peace and privacy in Rex’s command office. 

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t start it,” retorted Rex, throwing up his hands. “I’ve told the troops that if anyone tries that shit, their entire squad is on latrine duty for a month.” 

“You ever try it?” asked Cody, a small smile on his face as he took a sip of bitter caf.

“Fuck no,” Rex laughed. “If I wanted to do stupid shit in the air, I’d ask Skywalker. And I’d keep my dick in my sleeve, thank you.”

Cody laughed and shook his head. Rex let a few moments pass before he asked the stupid question: “How ‘bout you, Codes? Did you ever try?”

That earned a snort. “Do I look like the kind of vod who’d try something that stupid?”

Rex grinned, believing him, and left it at that.

At some point, the rumor morphed that said legends were members of the command class. Two shinies claimed their Alpha trainer told them that, and a sergeant corroborated the story. This narrowed the suspects considerably, and it became routine for commanders to be asked if they were the ones to successfully pulled off the maneuver.

“No,” said Commander Gree.

“Absolutely not,” said Commander Fox. “Get out of my office.”

“Never,” said Commander Ponds. (Sergeant Neyo confirmed: “The Commander got his name by diving headfirst into a pond when he practiced with his jetpack planetside. Commander Wolffe has holos.”)

“No, because I’m not an idiot,” said Commander Wolffe. (“Not like Ponds,” he added to those he was closer with. “I’ll never let him live that down.”)

“Never successfully,” said Commander Bacara with a sly grin, and nothing more.

“No comment,” said Commander Bly. (Gripped in a headlock by Wolffe, he admitted, “No, but I did try once. Okay, I tried twice, let go of me, Wolffe—!”)

“Why the fuck are you asking me?” said Commander Doom, a reputable badass and noted asexual. “Go run 10 more laps to get some blood to your brain.”

Commander Monnk just stared the questioner down. (When asked by Kit, “No, sir. One of my squadmates though, he took a pretty bad hit trying it. The fuel tanks only last for a couple of minutes in flight, and his, uh, partner was having trouble making it across the finish line. They fell out of the air when the fuel ran out, and my vod slowed his fall with a 1,000-year-old tree.”)

Commander Colt wouldn’t stop laughing every time he was asked.

It became pretty clear that it was a myth, and even if it wasn’t, none of the commanders were fessing up to being the one responsible.

* * *

“So I overheard the men talking in the commissary earlier,” said Obi-Wan sometime later, stirring a mug of tea in his kitchenette. “There seems to be quite the story going around about someone using a jetpack to try, hm, rather fascinating maneuvers.”

“Did it sound recent?” asked Cody, not looking up from the datapads strewn over the General’s desk. It was a day of peace and rest, which meant that it was a day for officers to catch up on paperwork. He and the general often shared quarters to take care of their mutual piles together. It definitely made the process slower, but the camaraderie and ability to share in Obi-Wan’s stashes of tea and caf made it worth it, in Cody’s official opinion.

“No, it seemed like it happened a long time ago,” answered Obi-Wan. “Is that sort of thing common for cadets? It sounds dangerous.”

“More common than it should be,” replied Cody. “Jetpack training is one of the few opportunities that cadets get to leave Kamino, and they’re just past their sexuality education at the time. Once they start learning tricks, it becomes a bit of a competition.”

Obi-Wan hummed. “And someone—a pair of someones—once got as far as— ah, I believe the trooper called it  _ a dual-pronged thrust maneuver _ .”

Cody snorted and rolled his eyes. “I ought to put them on scrubbing duty just for sheer uncreativity. But, bluntly, yes. That’s how the legend goes.”

Obi-Wan took a careful sip of his tea, humming to himself. A strand of hair dangled just over his forehead, a concession to the casual atmosphere of the room. It warmed Cody to know that around him, the General and Jedi Master was just Obi-Wan.

“What are the logistics of such a maneuver, Commander?” Obi-Wan’s eyes were twinkling as he said it. 

Had Obi-Wan said such a thing a year ago, Cody would have had to fight a blush. Now he just raised an unimpressed brow. “What makes you think I would know, sir?” he retorted.

Oh, that was a dangerous look the general was giving him. It looked like nothing, just deceptively neutral enough to fool all but his closest friends, but it was the face when Obi-Wan was about to pull a spectacular plan out of thin air and leave Cody chasing along to follow it.

“Please stop me if I’m being rude, but what led you to decide on the name Cody?” asked Obi-Wan sweetly.

Cody froze, his hand gripping the stylus that hovered just over the datapad. “It’s been a long time, sir, I don’t remember the incident well.”

Obi-Wan smiled rather than calling out the lie. “I seem to remember a Mandalorian children’s holoshow from long ago, about a team of commandos who fought all sorts of evil beings who tried to take over their planet, and occasionally running into trouble with their own clans. The leader of the pack was—”

“Commando Cody.” Defeated, Cody shook his head. “How long did it take for you to dig that up, sir?”

“Not long, I was interested in the serials myself,” replied Obi-Wan. He stepped out of the kitchen and took a seat opposite Cody at the table. His expression was one of gentle fondness and nostalgia. “It was the easiest way to learn Mando’a by immersion, so I watched every story I could find in the Archives before my Master and I took our mission to Mandalore.”

“My squad hacked the Kamino holonet and found a copy on a trainer’s datapad,” Cody admitted. “Only found the  _ Rader Men From The Moon _ serial. We watched it over and over again, and our squad decided to take our names from the characters. I didn’t pick Cody, my vod’e just agreed that I was the leader.” 

“Did you live up to your namesake, Rocket Man?” Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkled.

“A commando would never kiss and tell,” replied Cody out loud. At the same time, he gave Obi-Wan a mental nudge over their fledgling bond. Obi-Wan took the invitation to step inside Cody’s mind as Cody let the memory wash over him.

A young cadet Cody, unscarred and undaunted by any combat experience. He and his squad were planetside in a dry desert, red and endless to their visors. They weren’t alone; the rest of their surviving batch was there along with a Mandalorian trainer, their buyc’e hiding features but the Death Watch mark clear on their pauldron. 

The memory was then a rush of images: igniting the jetpacks for the first time in an atmosphere outside of a Kamino drill hall, rushing towards the sky, practicing maneuvers with his squadmates under the hawk eye of their trainer. Cody’s anxiety was not enough to dampen the sheer thrill of flying against the planet’s gravity, soaring among his squadmates, working together in a way that they’d never be able to replicate on the ground.

Later, under the cover of darkness, Cody and his squadmate Retik sneaking off and jumping off a plateau together, diving harmoniously through the canyons under the light of three moons. Grasping each other, carefully reaching through the magnetic seals of their cod plates, their helmets’ fog protection unable to keep up with their panting as the sensations of flying and  _ soaring _ overwhelmed them. The shock of finishing, a wet splash in their blacks, as they came together for a Keldabe kiss.

Finally, sneaking back to camp, hand in hand, the rush of adrenaline making every step louder and the urge to giggle even stronger. Not quite evading the watchful eye of the trainer, who strangely said nothing.

Cody opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. He looked to Obi-Wan, who opened his eyes a moment later, the blue of his irises soft in the ship’s fluorescents. 

“Thank you, Cody,” he said gently, dipping his head. “That was a privilege to experience.”

Cody swallowed a lump in his throat. “When I became command class,” he said, “I left my squad behind. They were at Geonosis for the first battle. I never knew where they were or how they went out, but they all died there. I hope they died together.”

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, seeming to take in the ball of grief Cody was feeling. Cody had forgotten to close the bond. “Apologies, sir,” he said quickly before shoring up his shields. 

“No, no, never apologize for sharing something like that.” Obi-Wan reached out and took Cody’s hand in an open but firm grip, the one that had long since dropped the stylus. Cody hadn’t noticed. “Every moment that I learn more about your lives is a gift and a blessing. Your life especially, if I were to admit to any sort of bias.”

Cody laughed at that. It had a wet sound, which both he and Obi-Wan ignored. Instead, he squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand right back. “Thank you, si– Obi-Wan.”

“Thank  _ you _ , Cody,” Obi-Wan replied. He brought Cody’s knuckles to his lips and gave a soft kiss, his lips as gentle as the ends of his beard. “I presume the identity of said  _ commandos _ is to remain top secret, correct?”

“Of course, General.” Cody felt mischief rise in the curl of his own lips. “We wouldn’t want to encourage any reckless behavior.”

“Absolutely.” Obi-Wan’s beam could reignite a star. But the way he stroked his beard was ringing subtle alarm bells in Cody’s head. “You know,” he began, “practicing more two-person maneuvers might be beneficial for future extraction situations.”

“You mean, when you walk into traps, get captured, and I have to come and save your ass,” corrected Cody.

Obi-Wan ignored the correction. “I doubt you’d mind the swooping in and saving my  _ ass _ if you were the one doing so with a jetpack.”

Ah. Cody understood now. “Sir, with all due respect, you’re a complete and utter menace.”

“Is that a no?”

Cody was already drawing up the diagrams in his head. “Let me think about it, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Commando Cody rights!
> 
> Do not attempt jetpack sex unless you are a billionaire, because then I don't care what happens to you.


End file.
